


What You Mean to Me

by christallized



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oneshot, aged up but its not super relevant, soft bois, wholesome bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christallized/pseuds/christallized
Summary: Just some Marc/Nath feels good hurt/comfort fic.
Relationships: Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54
Collections: MarcNath Fics!





	What You Mean to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Username8746489](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Username8746489/gifts).



There were a few things that Marc knew he could do well.

Keeping his thoughts from swirling into a black hold of negative emotions and crying uncontrollably at the slightest inconvenience was not one of them.

Being disconnected enough from the rest of the world's circadian rhythm to cook chicken strips at 3am _was_ one of those things.

Being able to lie to his boyfriend about his current mental stability when said boyfriend walked in the room, saying "Why are you up? Do I smell chicken strips? Are you feeling okay?" while yawning between each sentence-the jury was still out on that one.

Writing was one of those things he _had_ thought he could do well, but now, at 3am with the sizzling of cheap oven-baked chicken strips in his hands while his boyfriend rubbed his eyes sleepily on the other side of the room, he wasn't entirely sure of that, either.

"Hey, Nath," Marc said, placing the pan on the stove and taking off his oven mitts. "What are you doing up?"

"I heard you get up, and then you didn't come back to bed," Nathaniel answered. "Is everything okay?"

Instead of talking about his feelings like a normal person would, Marc instead chose the shittier option of deflecting the question. "What do you mean?"

Nathaniel gave a side glance to the clock. "Well, I know you cook when you're stressed-"

"This is heating frozen chicken strips, you can't really call this cooking."

"I know for _you_ it counts as cooking."

Marc gave a little half-laugh at that, sniffling. Nathaniel noticed the sound and instantly stepped forward, concerned.

"Hey," he said.

"I'm alright," Marc said, but Nathaniel's eyes had begun to adjust to the dark and he stilled.

"Your face is red," Nath whispered. "You've been crying."

"I'm...I'm fine," Marc said, smiling at Nathaniel. But the way Nathaniel was looking at him, as though he would scrutinize every little detail in the world to make sure Marc felt okay-the tightness in Marc's chest and throat swelled back up agian, and he started crying again for the second time that night.

Nathaniel didn't say anything, just slowly moved forward and opened his arms. Marc moved into his embrace, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks.

"Hey," Nathaniel said, circling a hand across his back. "Hey, it's alright. You're alright."

Nathaniel led Marc out of the kitchen and to the darkness of the adjacent room, to a couch with an ugly blanket-a gift from Alix when they had first gotten this apartment-and they sat in the dark, Marc's face buried in Nathaniel's night shirt, Nathaniel slowly rubbing his boyfriend's back.

"What's wrong?" Nathaniel asked, in the kind, soft tone that Marc knew he only ever used for him.

"It's nothing," Marc mumbled into Nathaniel's shirt. "It's dumb."

"Honey, it's okay," Nathaniel said, reaching out for Marc's hand with his free one and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"It's just...bad thoughts in my head again, like I'm not actually good at anything and the only reason you keep me around is because I write for you and..." He hiccuped, shivering. "And-and I know I cry a lot and I'm sorry and I feel like I'm just a burden to you without my stories and that's the only thing that I can do right and when I can't do that you'll...you'll..."Marc trailed off into quiet sobs, body shaking as he leaned closer into Nathaniel's chest.

Nathaniel wrapped his arms around Marc, holding him closer as he buried his face into Marc's hair. "Marc," he murmured. "Oh, Marc, honey."

"I'm sorry," Marc choked hoarsely into Nathaniel's shirt. "I've been having a lot of writer's block lately and I didn't mean for you to..."

"Marc," Nathaniel ran one hand around his boyfriend's jaw, lifting his head up. He pressed his forehead against Marc's. "I love you," he said. "And sure, I like your writing, too, but not nearly as much as I love you."

Marc made a little noise in the back of his throat that was half a laugh, half a sob.

"You have the sweetest smile in the world," Nathaniel continued, shifting to wrap one arm around Marc's waist so the man was half curled around him. "You're incredibly kind and patient with me-god, I'm lucky to have you in my life, you know? There's so much more to you than just your writing, and I love all of you."

Marc sniffed. "You really mean that?"

"Every word."

Marc let out a shaky breath, his tear-wet eyelashes fluttering against Nathaniel's cheek as his hands slowly unclenched from the red-head's shirt.

Nathaniel pressed his lips to Marc's temple. "I love how you manage to brighten every room you're in. I love the way your nose scrunches up when you laugh. I love how passionately you can care about anything-even the ugly stray black cat that wanders around the neighborhood."

"Chat Noir Jr. isn't ugly," Marc protested, a smile already forming on his face.

"I don't know how you managed to make him like you. I was taking out the trash yesterday and he was just laying on our doormat and the little bastard hissed at me."

Marc giggled a little. "I can't believe you would talk about our son that way."

Nathaniel grinned and wrapped both his arms around Marc, pulling the black-haired man into his lap. "I adore your voice," he said. "It's probably my favorite sound."

Marc's fingers tangled into the locks of hair at the nape of Nathaniel's neck. "Really?"

"Really. Even when you snore it sounds adorable."

The black snorted. "I doubt that."

"You've never heard yourself snore. It's really soft and quiet," Nathaniel assured him. "And really cute."

"I'll have to take your word for it, then."

"And you know what else I like?" Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, leaning forward conspiratorially.

Marc's smile was already widening. "What?"

"I like your butt."

Marc burst into full, open laughter. Nathaniel's heart felt light as he watched Marc place a hand over his mouth to quiet himself before they woke anyone up. "You like my butt?" His eyes were wide, incredulous.

Nathaniel smiled cheekily, letting his hands rest around his boyfriend's hips. "My favorite butt," he said.

"You're a dork." Marc buried his head into Nathaniel's neck, snickering.

There was a warm and comfortable silence as they sat on the couch, limbs intertwined. The chill of the night kept them close, the warmth of each other kept them content.

"You mean so much to me," Nathaniel murmured, placing a kiss on Marc's shoulder. "Even if you never wrote another word I think I would still love you forver. And I'll say that I love you as many times as I have to and then some more for good measure, okay?"

"Tell me," Marc whispered.

Nathaniel pulled back so he could look Marc in the eyes, his boyfriend's green irises barely visible in the darkness. "I love you," he said, placing a kiss to his boyfriend's neck, a testament.

"I love you."

A kiss to his jawline, a declaration.

"I love you."

A kiss to his cheek, an assurance.

Nathaniel laced his fingers through the other boy's dark hair, almost cradling his head in his hands, as though he was afraid if he didn't hold him close enough he would be lost forever. He pressed a kiss to Marc's mouth, whispering against his lips.

"I love you."

A promise.

Marc let out a deep sigh, pressing into Nathaniel's kiss. "Thank you," he said, pulling away for a second to wipe his eyes.

Nathaniel smiled fondly back, suddenly cut off by a long yawn. He blinked, surprised and a little sheepish.

Marc chuckled, crawling off of Nathaniel's lap. "You should go to bed."

"There's still so much I love about you that I haven't said yet," Nathaniel said, holding Marc's hand. "I think I want to be awake with you for a little while longer."

~oOo~

Nathaniel woke to the sound of his boyfriend's heartbeat, his soft, barely discernible snoring, and the faint sound of a cat meowing outside their door.

His head was laying on Marc's chest, one arm slung over the other man's waist, legs tangled together under messy covers. One of Marc's hands was buried in his hair, the other hand crept under the hem of Nathaniel's shirt, fingers gently brushing against his spine.

Sunlight was brightening the room through the curtains of the window, something that Nathaniel wished sunlight couldn't do, not now, not when he could sleep like this forever.

He shifted a little closer into Marc, pressing his lips against the other man's collarbone and smiling, basking in the smell of Marc and early morning air and their love.

Marc stirred, yawning and curling around Nathaniel. "Is that Chat Noir Jr. at the door?" he asked, his voice sleepy.

"I think so," Nathaniel said. "He probably wants food."

Marc stretched, relaxing back into Nathaniel's touch. "Do we have anything for him?"

"We have...cold, probably spoiled chicken strips," Nathaniel mumbled.

"Oh no," Marc groaned.

Nathaniel laughed.

"We can't give him that," Marc said. "I'll see if we have tuna."

Nathaniel grinned when Marc made no move to get up. "Okay."

Marc settled back against Nathaniel. "Morning," He said, leaning his head down to press a soft kiss to Nathaniel's lips.

Nathaniel smiled back. "Morning," he whispered quietly. "Love you."

**Author's Note:**

> To UN, an incredible writer who gives so much to this little community. Here's a little back.


End file.
